


Laundry

by akh



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Grey hoodies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 20:17:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8859559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akh/pseuds/akh
Summary: Bernie, Serena, Ukraine, and two grey hoodies.





	

Bernie doesn’t realise she has taken the wrong hoodie until she pulls the grey garment out of her bag in Kiev.

Figures that one of the few items she’s taken with her at all, in her hurry to leave, isn’t even hers.

A standard, grey, NHS issue hoodie. Easy mistake to make.

But of course it’s not just any hoodie – one she could wash and then make use of.

No. It’s Serena’s, of all people, with a faint whiff of her scent still attached to it.

Bernie doesn’t think twice before she buries her face in the fabric, clinging on to the feeling of Serena in the only way she can now.

Stupid coward.

***

Serena realises immediately that the hoodie hanging in the locker room where she thought she had hung it next to Bernie’s in the morning is, in fact, not hers.

It’s Bernie’s.

She tries not to wonder whether it’s been an honest mix-up, or if Bernie has taken hers on purpose, but she wonders anyway – feels a little flutter in her torn heart when she allows herself, for a moment, to fancy the reason might be the latter. Then she remembers that Bernie is gone regardless and her heart sinks again.

Still, she might as well bring the hoodie home.

It probably needs washing anyway.

Not that she’s going to wash it, of course.

Stupid idiot.

***

The apartment Bernie’s been assigned is cold and unwelcoming on her arrival.

The hoodie, albeit not her own, is the warmest piece of clothing she’s brought with her to her self-imposed exile.

It only makes sense to wrap it tightly around her frame when she goes to lie down, trying to catch the elusive sleep that she already knows won’t come.

At least, if she closes her eyes and breathes in the scent still lingering in the fabric, she can almost picture Serena lying beside her. She can almost imagine she’s not alone.

***

Serena’s home is warm and cosy, but she tries the hoodie on anyway – just to make sure it fits, of course, or she’ll have to get a new one to replace the one that left her in a lurch and buggered off to Ukraine.

She is thinking about the hoodie, obviously, not Bernie. Nice and snug against her skin. Warm and soft. And, most importantly, actually here.

When Serena finally makes her way up the stairs for what she knows will be a vain attempt to get some sleep, she brings the hoodie with her and wraps it around herself like a blanket. A soft, grey blanket that creates the illusion of a warm hug that she isn’t going to get.

It doesn’t do much to lessen the sting of rejection.

***

Bernie looks sheepish when she pulls the well-worn, grey hoodie out of her bag in Serena’s living room two months later.

It smells more of Bernie now than Serena, but she still hasn’t washed it.

“I think this is yours,” she mutters, eyes cast down, fingers still caressing the grey fabric.

She would keep the hoodie, pretend she never had it, but she’s done keeping things from Serena, so instead she looks up, meets Serena’s eyes, and admits it probably needs washing. Definitely needs washing.

Serena swallows a quip about Ukrainian laundry services and clears her throat, tries to keep her smile at bay, and tells Bernie to wait.

She hurries upstairs and comes down with a matching hoodie in much similar state of wear.

“I kept yours, too,” she admits, and is about to hand the garment over to Bernie when another idea takes over, lighting up her features. She takes her own hoodie from Bernie instead.

“Maybe wash them both first, shall we?” she suggests almost playfully, nodding with her head towards the laundry room. “Give the poor buggers a fresh start.”

Bernie snorts out an undignified laugh as if suddenly relieved from all remaining tension.

“You know what?” she chuckles, stepping a little closer to Serena. “I think they deserve it.”

That night, they fall asleep wrapped in each other - their grey hoodies, washed and dried, folded away neatly in Serena's closet.


End file.
